Hue and Saturation
by Pegasus
Summary: A conversation between Lupin and Tonks, postevents of the penultimate chapter of 'Half Blood Prince' HAS SPOILERS!


**Disclaimer**

Not mine, JKR's/Warner Bros. property. No financial gain, wah wah wah wah.

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Hue and Saturation 

"Remus, wait for me." 

The man paused as he reached the door of the Entrance Hall. He knew, deep down in his heart that pausing would be his undoing, yet still he did it. 

"Nymphadora." 

"Don't call me that," she replied automatically. "Remus, please don't walk away from me. You promised we would talk about it later. Well, it is later." Her mousy brown hair fell into her eyes and she blew at it irritably. 

"Later? Tonks, we literally just walked away from Bill's bedside!" Exasperated, he turned to look at her. "When I said 'later', I meant…tomorrow, maybe. Next week perhaps." 

"Next month? Next year? Remus, talk to me!" Tonks grabbed hold of his hands, much the way she had done upstairs. "Please! You owe me that much at least." 

"What do you mean, 'I owe you'?" Lupin pulled his hands away from hers in irritation. "I don't owe you anything." 

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth and when he saw the effect they had on her. Her eyes filled with tears and she stared at him in disbelief. "Nympha…Tonks, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's been a hard night for all of us. I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry." His voice shook on the final few syllables and he felt tears stinging the back of his own eyes. 

"No," she said, tearfully. "You're right. You don't owe me anything. But at least have the courtesy, the decency to hear me out. If I'm going to make a fool of myself, then I at least want to do it properly instead of from a distance." 

"Not here, at least," he said, shortly. "Not standing the entrance of Hogwarts. Not right after…" 

_Dumbledore died._

He couldn't say it, couldn't say the words and felt a sudden sob of grief rip from his throat, which he quelled by swallowing hard. "Tomorrow, I promise. We'll talk tomorrow. I'll meet you in the Hog's Head. I need to be on my own right now, Tonks – but understand this. That is not because of you. It's because of the fact…." 

_Dumbledore died._

She nodded. "I understand. Thank you, Remus." 

Was it his imagination, or did the mousy brown of her hair lift in tone slightly as she walked away from him? 

"You came, then." 

"Of course I came. I said tomorrow, and I keep my promises. I'm almost offended." Remus undid the clasp on his cloak and slung it over the back of the chair. 

Madam Rosmerta was nowhere to be seen; one of the part-time barmaids having filled in for her as she was too grief-stricken to run the place herself. It was this barmaid who hurried across to take Remus' order. The man requested a small Gillywater and then slid into the chair opposite Tonks. 

Her hair was a definite shade brighter than it had been yesterday, he couldn't help but notice. 

The silence seemed to stretch out for aeons. Ice ages came and went. Countries were founded and empires built and ruined before Remus spoke. 

"What can I say, Tonks? You know it all already. I'm too old for you, too…broken. You deserve someone you can have a future with, someone who can love you better than I can." 

"But I don't want anybody else," came the reply in a small, barely audible voice. "Why can't you understand that? I love you like...like Fleur loves Bill. Like Molly loves Arthur…like…" 

"Like Harry loved his parents, like Lily loved James…I understand, Nymphadora, but I can't be on the receiving end of that love. It…hurts to much, losing the people you care about. I would go mad if I lost you on top of everyone else." He reached across the table and took her hands in his. 

Her hair was definitely more ginger than brown. 

"My dad has this saying," she mused, brushing aside his transgression of using her Christian name. "'It's better to have loved and to have lost than never to have loved at all.'" Her voice was very small and the hope in it almost put tears in his eyes. 

"Is that so?" said Remus and the bitterness in his voice shocked her slightly. "Then whoever came up with that one had clearly never loved and lost. I can't take the loss of anybody else, Tonks. My life has been one continual chain of death and grief and misery – and – perhaps selfishly – I don't think I can bear to go through it again if I can possibly avoid it. Selfish, you understand?" 

"But Remus…" 

"Let me finish, please." He looked up as the waitress brought his drink and downed it in one swig. Tonks' eyes widened. She had never seen Remus drink like that before and was quietly impressed. The only other person she had ever seen down a Gillywater in one fell swoop was Professor McGonagall, and everyone was in awe of her. 

"Certainly," she said. "Please do." 

He took a deep, calming breath. The Gillywater had helped some, but he was still nervous beyond belief. 'Dutch Courage', Molly had gently reassured him it was called. It would help him say what he had to say but couldn't. 

Thank the powers that be for Molly Weasley. Without her, he could never have come here today, to find it in his heart to tell Nymphadora Tonks what he truly thought. "I…I can't promise you anything," he said, eventually. "I can't promise you eternal rainbows and songbirds, my life isn't like that. You deserve someone so much better than me." 

"There is nobody better than you," was her artless reply and that threw him for six. He hadn't expected her to say that so simply, so honestly, so truthfully that he suddenly wondered if she did, in fact, mean it. 

Definitely ginger. Almost red, he would have said, on closer inspection. 

Their eyes locked across the table. And in the unspoken words that passed between them, they suddenly reached an understanding. She knew that he wasn't perfect, but it didn't bother her. After all, what was perfection to a Metamorphmagus who could iron out the simplest wrinkle with a twitch of her upturned nose? 

He knew that she was younger, more deserving, but also gradually began to understand that it was him she wanted. Why, was a conversation for another time – and with a growing gladness in his heart, Remus suddenly wanted there to be another time. He wanted there to be several more times. 

"It…will not be easy," he said, eventually. "I may be simple on the surface, but I am a lot more complex than you might think. I'm like a wolf with a sore head in the mornings, and I hate cheese." 

"Then I won't talk to you until after lunch and avoid cheese on toast." 

"I'm nearly twice your age." 

"Then I'll push your bathchair around and fetch your pension." 

"I'm a werewolf." 

"Aren't you lucky?" 

"Yes," replied Remus, with a soft, warm smile that lit up his eyes. "Yes, Nymphadora, I think I am. Very lucky." 

"Do you think pink's really my colour?" she asked, thoughtfully. "It is, isn't it?" 

And with a simple effort, her hair burst forth in a riot of colour. 

(c)S. Watkins, 2005 


End file.
